


Discreet Gentlemen

by twowritehands



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Crowley in the Friend Zone, Fake Flirting, M/M, Or Is It?, Unresolved Romantic Tension, jealousy disguised as pure logic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-30 02:35:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20807105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twowritehands/pseuds/twowritehands
Summary: "I have found the people here to be the most agreeable sort. There is this feeling in the air here. I wonder if you can sense it. It is a… a low frequency reverence of some kind. Almost like a church, really. I can't quite put my finger on it.""Oh, angel.""What?""Do you know what sort of club this is?"Aziraphale looked around, beaming. "It's a gentlemen's club."





	Discreet Gentlemen

**Author's Note:**

> You know humans were falling in love with these guys left, right, and center. In 6000 years, they each had to give in to it at least once.
> 
> Here's what happened.

  1. LONDON. 

Crowley stepped into the club and removed his top hat and greatcoat. A servant handled his cane and deftly traded it off for the coat and hat with a warm welcome. Crowley gave the young man a once over but didn't break stride. He was here to meet Aziraphale to discuss business. Pleasures and off the book tempting would have wait.

The dining room had square tables with white table cloths and a sea of finely dressed gents enjoying brunch and reading the paper. Crowley actually had to shorten his stride, as he did not immediately spot the angel. The usual trick of looking for a white jacket in the tide of standard black failed, as nearly every man in this room was wearing a vibrant choice of color. 

He scanned the room, and spotted a head of white hair. Aziraphale was sitting at a table in the sun, eating a scone and smiling for no reason.

With a scoff, Crowley cut through the room toward him. More appreciative eyes tracked him as he went. By the time he took his seat across from the angel, he was smiling too. 

"Good morning, Crowley! You appear to be in a good mood. I hope you haven't forgotten that it is your turn to shoulder the workload."

"No. I haven't. Did you write it all down for me?"

Aziraphale slid a sealed letter across the table. Crowley stood it on its edge and started keeping time to the song in his head. He looked around, catching an older man across the room staring. He grinned. "How on earth did you find this place?"

Aziraphale, practically wiggling in his seat as he enjoyed the buttery, flaky pastry, heaved a sigh of contentment. "A friend recommended it. He said the food was excellent."

"Did he now? And what friend would that be?" Crowley was on the verge of smirking.

"You don't know him," Aziraphale said with a dismissive flap of a hand. It was him not wanting to share his friends with a demon, but sometimes it felt to Crowley like Aziraphale didn't want to share Crowley with anyone.

"Have you dined with him here?"

"Well, of course I have. As I said, he recommended it. And I have found the people here to be the most agreeable sort. There is this feeling in the air here. I wonder if you can sense it. It is a… a low frequency _ reverence _ of some kind. Almost like a church, really. I can't quite put my finger on it."

"Oh, angel."

"What?"

"Do you know what sort of club this is?"

Aziraphale looked around, beaming. "It's a gentlemen's club."

"For gentlemen."

"Precisely."

"Who... "

"Who, what, Crowley, appreciate the finer things in life? I know you always smirk at my fuss over clothes and the like but it is simply a matter of standards and these men share those standards. I'm quite at home here. I have even begun to learn to dance!"

Crowley propped on his palm, grinning ear to ear. He really didn't get it, did he? But that couldn't be right. Aziraphale had to be messing with him. "Why did you suggest we meet here? The food?"

"Well, naturally. Even though I know you won't take a bite."

Crowley decided to let it lie. No fun if he ended up embarrassed about it all. 

Aziraphale shifted his plate in the sun, like a florist admiring a bouquet. "I don't understand you, Crowley. Truly. How can aromas as enticing as this not tempt you to even one little nibble?"

It was too much. Crowley had to say something. He glanced around, then leaned closer to speak low. "Angel, I don't eat because… whatever goes in, has to come out."

He pulled a face. "Good Lord, Crowley. Not at the breakfast table!"

"Yes, alright. But I'm just saying, that is why. It's undignified. Disgusting. And, in our case, unnecessary. So I don't bother. And now you hang around with this lot, I think you'll find soon enough you would rather… keep things tidy, as well." his lips squirmed on his face. "And since you can't risk any more frivolous miracles... It's time to fast."

Aziraphale frowned. His eyes shifted and then comprehension dawned slowly. He changed colors right before Crowley's eyes. Marvelous. 

Aziraphale sputtered. Crowley stood up.

"See you in six months when the job is done." he saluted with the folded note and sauntered out of the room. 

::::

SIX MONTHS LATER

"You're not eating, angel." Crowley greeted him in the dining room, but the table was not set. Aziraphale looked whimsical as he replied,

"No."

There was something off about him, too. He smiled as brightly as ever, but he seemed unsettled. 

"Are you ill? You can't be ill, you're impervious to germs. What's the matter?"

Aziraphale glanced around and lowered his voice. "I would rather not..." then he whispered conspiratorially, "_ Like you said. _"

Crowley's jaw literally dropped and he gasped. He slid into his chair and leaned on both elbows. "Angel. Tell me everything! When did it happen?"

The bashful grin creased Aziraphale's cheeks and he toyed with his cuffs. "One fortnight ago. He and I. Well. It just sort of happened. Quite naturally. He said the most romantic things..." he cut off breathless and pink.

Crowley was genuinely happy for him. It was about bloody time something besides food and books held this angel's attention--how he ever lived through the fourteenth century without resorting to such a mind wiping pastime really was beyond Crowley. Now finally, he got it.

And if he was comfortable with fornication, then Crowley could start unloading some of the bigger Tempting jobs in the future. This was only getting better.

Crowley really was pleased. 

But, stitched to the bottom of this happiness like a shadow, was this unrecognizable feeling that put a weird taste on his tongue and made him want to talk about other things. And yet, nothing else mattered right now. Nothing at all.

"Will I get to meet him?"

"No. I think not."

"Why?"

"You know why. I'm not subjecting the man I love to a demon."

That strange shadow deepened. The chatter and racket of the dining room seemed to intensify. Suddenly, Crowley could hardly ignore how this was a room full of hot blooded men aching to be set free from social convention and more than half of them were openly attracted to him.

It was rather the best selling point for the modern era. Though the latest fashion was to appear modest and virtuous, sex was never far from anyone's mind.

Crowley gulped. "You love him, do you?"

"Of course. I would never have touched him otherwise." Aziraphale cleared his throat and averted his eyes. Crowley figuratively backed away from that like it was a bucket of holy water. Leave it to an angel to make the whole thing about love. Blerhg. 

It would have been nice to start talking about literally anything else but the next question out of Crowley's mouth was, 

"So you've told him who you really are, then?"

"HA!" the laugh was so sudden, and loud, it turned heads. Aziraphale clamped a hand over his own mouth, eyes wide. Then he meekly promised to be quieter to the room at large and took a deep breath. Shook his head. 

Crowley, amused, crossed his arms. "So you're lying to him."

Aziraphale looked deeply troubled. "It's a necessary lie. He would never believe the truth."

"You could prove it. Quite easily as a matter of fact. Give him his heart's desire with a snap of your fingers."

"And get in serious trouble with Michael or Gabriel."

"Aw. C'mon. What are they gonna do? Send another strongly worded note?The man you love is not worth even that much trouble?"

"You have no _ idea _ what he is worth to me!" Aziraphale snapped. 

Crowley bristled against the challenge in that voice, "I just don't see how it's _ love _ if you lie to him every single moment you are with him." 

Yes, he had happened upon a soapbox to stand on here, so he wasn't so lost in that shadow anymore. Now it was all about making a Point.

Aziraphale was literally shaking with rage. Crowley could feel the white blaze radiating across the table.

"It's for his own good." Aziraphale spoke measuredly. "The truth will hurt him more than it hurts me to keep it from him."

Crowley shook his head. "Unbelievable."

"I suppose you've lied to countless lovers."

"Nnurgh, hate that word. They were _ partners _. And I changed their worlds," he teased with a smirk. Technically, he never actually revealed anything, and technically the last one had been some centuries ago when snake eyes were taken more in stride. (He missed pagans for that.)

Aziraphale shook his head. "Poor lost souls. You're taking advantage and you really shouldn't!"

"And what is it you're doing?"

"_ I love him _."

"But not enough to tell him the first thing about who you really are."

"He knows enough. The most important bits. And I don't have to justify myself to anyone but to--

"--him." Crowley said, the same time Aziraphale said, "Her Lord in Heaven."

An awkward silence fell. Crowley had a smug look about him.

"You haven't yet, have you?"

"Haven't what?" Aziraphale snapped again. 

Crowley cracked his knuckles, thinking of the word. "....Received him?"

Aziraphale's scowl was dark and mildly threatening. Crowley got on with his point, 

"Right. You've gone off food to prepare for it, but I bet you can't stop nibbling--" his face gave away that Crowley's guess was correct. "You eat because you aren't ready. Not really. You can't open yourself up like that to someone who doesn't really know you."

Aziraphale stood from the table so abruptly the sugar dish tipped over and heads turned in their direction again.

Crowley was prepared to miracle himself to another country, if this was to be a fight. The heavenly wrath was held back by an eggshell. 

Aziraphale took a breath, controlling himself. "It was a mistake meeting for a purely social occasion. You won't hear from me again until we have business matters to discuss. Good day sir!"

He stormed out, leaving Crowley feeling frozen in his chair, the ghost of his smirk still stuck on his face.

::::

_ Mr. Fell, _

_ Please allow me to apologize for my rude behavior this morning. Your attempt to share joyous news was met with judgement and hostility and I wish I had reacted better. It was not my intention to ruin your happiness, only a poorly controlled impulse that I hope you understand. _

_ I must travel now to ---shire. I hope to work with you again soon _

_ Crowley _

::::

ONE YEAR LATER

Crowley wasn't alone when he visited the club next. At his side was a young eager thing called Brian, who had a haughty way about him that made him just enough of a social pariah to be fun. 

They bumped into Aziraphale in the smoking lounge. Crowley smirked and adjusted his glasses. It was such a small world these days, and even smaller for discreet gentlemen.

Aziraphale clocked them across the room and let his confusion and curiosity register on his face-- alongside the customary smile, of course. 

As Crowley and Brian settled in some cushioned chairs for a game of cards, Aziraphale drew nearer. Crowley neatly pretended to be more focused on shuffling the deck.

"Crowley,” he greeted, stopping next to Brian’s chair. “I wasn't expecting you here. And you've brought a friend. How wonderful."

"Yes. I'm only in town for the night. Uh, Mr. Brian Smith, may I introduce you to A Z Fell."

Brian shook Aziraphale's hand rather firmly. Clear challenge was in his eyes. "Nice to meet you. How do you know Crowley?"

Aziraphale squared his shoulders, but gave the nicest smile. "Oh, we go back to practically the Beginning, don't we?"

Crowley chuckled with him. Brian frowned. "You grew up together?"

Aziraphale shrugged with a pensive frown but there was a glint in his eye. "You could say, I knew him before… anything was plucked."

Crowley coughed and sputtered around his pipe. Aziraphale laughed. "It was law school, wasn't it, actually?"

"Yes. The beginning of law school."

Brian continued to smile and be polite but his eyes had gone cold at that double entendre. He didn't like Aziraphale, and it was anyone's guess what Aziraphale really thought about Brian.

Crowley sagged. This just became more work than play. 

"How's, uh… ?" he was forced to trail off. He'd never been given a name. 

Aziraphale's face lengthened. "Oh, he is ...no more."

"He's dead?!" Crowley's voice lifted, stopping conversation around the entire room. 

"No. No." Aziraphale waited until interest in their corner faded and the murmur of conversation returned to the room. 

"He isn't dead. Just, sadly, no longer mine."

Brain's lips parted in pure empathy and surprise to hear a man openly claim another man in such a way. It showed his age, which made Aziraphale shoot Crowley a reproachful look. 

_ He's too young for you _. 

Crowley moved closer. "When did that happen?"

"Oh, months ago now." he tried to wave it off. But Crowley could smell pain on him. "I'm back on my feet."

Months ago. So before Crowley tempted Brain onto his knees for the first time, then. What a shame. 

"Wait a minute, what happened? Did you… ?"

They managed to lock eyes, despite the tinted lenses. Crowley gulped. Beneath the surface, the pain was yowling almost like wrath but all the sharp edges were turned inwards. 

This was ugly pain, even for a demon. 

Aziraphale rocked soft blue eyes to Brian. Crowley remembered him with a jolt. "Oh. Darling. Give us a moment, could you?"

He hauled Aziraphale outside onto a balcony, leaving Brian alone without a glance. The boy would get on fine enough. Right now there was the matter of an angel currently a ticking bomb. 

If Aziraphale was to do something reckless and draw too much attention then Heaven would make inquiries and the arrangement would come to light.

"I couldn't tell him the truth," Aziraphale said as soon as they were out of earshot. He'd been bursting to talk about this for ages; Crowley could taste how the pain had festered like gangrene. "It was too big a risk to take. And naturally, if I couldn't share that then I couldn't… couldn't… _ you know _.” He exhaled, miserable. Then he shook his head. “He was understanding, for a time. But eventually, he decided that my limitations were too constricting to his happiness so ...that was that."

"Oh, angel. That is rotten business. You should have written. I might have… " Crowley trailed off, confused about the rest of the sentence. 

"Might have what?"

That was a good question. Crowley took a guess, "Tempted him to stay? Or at least sent some bad luck his way, I dunno."

Aziraphale peered at him sideways, brow crunched, lips bowed. "Thank you, but... that would have involved me revealing him to you." He smiled. Crowley smiled back.

"Aw. C'mon. I showed you Brian."

"Yes, you have. He is a good looking young man. A nice strong jawline."

"Isn't it though?" he said wistfully.

"It was lovely to meet him, but now it's my duty to save that poor boy from you. I must thwart you. You know I must."

Crowley grumbled but then relented. "Thwart away then. He is a bit young for me anyway."

Aziraphale blinked and then gaped. "That was your plan all along! You need me to end it for you!"

Called out, Crowley tried to grin. "I'd owe you one, angel."

Aziraphale shook his head and then sighed. "This is low, even for you. Just let him down gently. Tell him he isn't The One for you."

Crowley made a face. "Not saying that. _ The One _. Nonsense."

Aziraphale rolled his eyes. "It isn't nonsense. The Great Plan has true happiness worked out for everyone and it is a safe bet that Brian's soulmate is not a demon."

"Like What's His Face's wasn't an angel?" It was a sharp stick in an open wound, and Crowley really didn't know why he said it. 

Aziraphale breathed through a spike of pain that Crowley felt like a ripple in dark waters. But then... he nearly smiled and glanced at him.

"That is a rather comforting way to look at it, actually. Thank you."

Crowley wasn’t sure comfort had been the intended goal, but fine. He frowned at the thought of dealing with Brian on his own. "Look, I've tried to shake him with all the usual ways, but he's quite keen."

"Couldn't you just," Aziraphale indicated removing the glasses and going _ boo _. 

"He’s come close more than once. Keeps trying to take them off me when we’re alone together, but that’s not a good idea with this one. He's too devious to introduce to the powers of the occult."

Aziraphale's eyes popped round. "Well, then in that case… Move closer to me now. Like you are sharing a secret."

"Is he watching?"

Aziraphale nodded discreetly.

Crowley bent at the waist, and murmured, "Are you doing what I think you're doing?"

"He's already jealous. One kiss and he will leave you."

Crowley's throat pulsed and his lips bunched, but Aziraphale suddenly changed his posture.

"Nevermind. He's gone to the other room."

Crowley raked his teeth over his lip with a hateful noise. Aziraphale had the tact not to grin. Businesslike, he touched Crowley's elbow.

"First we shall ferment. Let us stay out here until he searches you out. Then if he still hasn't given up on you tomorrow, come to my book shop, and he will catch us in the backroom."

A thrill unfurled in Crowley's ribcage. He'd never been to the new bookshop before, but the backroom sounded very fun.

"I couldn't have planned it better myself. You're rather good at sewing discord and heartache."

"I am saving his soul." he insisted. 

Crowley smirked.

::::

Brian wrinkled his nose at the smell of dust inside Aziraphale's shop. Crowley beamed, impressed. It was a good sized place, with tables and shelves full of books and the aroma of tea and biscuits in the air. 

Aziraphale greeted them from a ladder in the back. He was with a customer so did not rush straight over. Crowley turned his hat in his fingers, waiting. 

"What's a lawyer doing running a bookshop?" Brian asked dubiously.

"He isn't a lawyer." 

"You met in law school."

"Oh. No. Yeah. He sold me my law books."

Brain frowned. "Oh."

"Have a look around while I have a quick word with him."

Aziraphale handed a book down from the top shelf and then came over to help them. 

"Crowley. Good afternoon. I have what you asked for. It is in the back..."

With a polite smile, he stopped Brian from following them into the back room. Stepping through with the angel, Crowley grinned at that special feeling VIP rooms were made for. Even if it was all a ruse. 

It was a smaller space void of natural light. The oil lamp made shadows that flickered.

"I like what you've done with the place. It suits you."

"Thank you. Now, have a look at these books."

They bent over a stack of books meant to be fascinating. Aziraphale actually was spouting all the wonderful things about the volume but Crowley wasn't listening. 

He was focused on two things. 1) How close Aziraphale was standing, and 2) whether or not Brian was trying to eavesdrop.

They had left the curtain open, but Crowley had his back to the rest of the shop. He had to rely on the handy reflections in his dark lenses to see behind him. Brian was currently lingering near enough to hear every word. 

Overhearing boring book talk wasn’t going to do anything. Crowley changed the subject,

"I'm sorry about your fellow. I can't help but feel partially responsible. If I hadn't said what I did that day--"

"Oh, but I'm so glad you did say it. You saved much more heartache in the end, I think."

"I did?" Crowley asked, truly surprised. Brain had drifted into the doorway of the room. They both pretended to have not seen him.

"Yes. You were right. People deserve to be... truly seen, and understood…" He spoke in earnest, with an expression of longing that stole Crowley’s breath.

Suddenly, the glasses slid to the tip of his nose. Aziraphale had lowered them, and spoke softly, 

"You'll see better without these… the stitching on the cover is terribly unique."

This time when their eyes locked, actual electricity thrummed between them, ready to spark at any moment.

A crash behind him made Crowley whirl. The glasses fell off his face and he caught them awkwardly against his mouth and crammed them back into place before Brian looked up from the fallen books at his feet. 

He looked at Crowley, betrayal plain on his features. 

"You let _ him _ take off your glasses? _ Him _ ? _ I'm _ the one you-- we… how could you, Crowley?"

"Look, I--"

Brian fled the shop. Crowley did not go after him. He looked at Aziraphale, who had that perfect blend of guilt and pleasure on his face.

"That worked better than I hoped! We didn't even need to kiss!"

Crowley felt a strange drop in his stomach. "Yeah. Nice one. Brilliant touch, with the glasses. Because I mentioned he kept trying. Yeah. Really made a statement there."

Aziraphale looked pleased and tried to appear humble. "Yes. For young, tender hearts the smallest Slight can have greater impact. Now he will leave you and seek out true intimacy. As should we all."

Crowley helped pick up the fallen books. Silence fell. The shop had become rather gloomy at the prospect of true intimacy, and truly being seen by anyone on earth.

The trouble was, people in the current world were nowhere near ready for the truths two beings such as themselves had to offer in that kind of relationship. Perhaps the future would hold better luck for them both, but the prospect was bleak.

"What was your excuse?" Aziraphale asked suddenly.

"Hm?"

"For never removing your glasses, even in bed?"

Crowley's lips squirmed. "We were never in bed together, angel. Just a few trysts in dark corners backstage the opera house. I never gave him a real reason... Just wouldn't allow it."

Aziraphale turned slightly purple at the vivid imagery of public sex, then grunted and said primly. "Well, I do hope you've learned your lesson."

“I have. You can take my Break Up jobs from now on.”

Aziraphale smacked his lips. “No! Absolutely not. I can’t go about splitting people up. Who will play cupid? You?”

Crowley’s lips bowed upwards. “If ya like.”

He did like it, Crowley could tell. 

Crowley didn’t read books because reading people was far more entertaining, and there wasn’t a face on Earth as easy to read as Aziraphale. The angel had deeply enjoyed saving that boy by hurting him. Crowley wouldn’t mind nudging, tripping, and otherwise shoving certain people together forever if it left the hurting jobs for the angel to enjoy.

Aziraphale allowed a grin to split his face. “Deal.”


End file.
